


Golden Rose

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Dad!Keith, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Hurt, M/M, Other, Single Parents, sheithweek, sheithweek2k16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8356141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: Allura leans forward to have a peek at her book, and snaps her eyes up towards him in disbelief. “You gave her a physics exercise book?”He shrugs. “I was experimenting.”“She's six.”





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> It's sheith week everyone! I'm a bit late in posting the first day, but this story would be based on the prompts at tumblr, and I'm hoping to get this finished as soon as I can, despite my history when updating stories. Any sort of mistakes are mine to make.
> 
> Day 1: Hurt/Comfort

So.

The pipe at the kitchen sink burst again.

And honestly, if Keith hasn't run as quickly as he has with the wrench in hand, a string of muted curses spilling out of his mouth as he quickly drops to his knees before twisting the stupid thing as tightly as he could, he'll be probably be swimming in his own apartment.

Stained shirt drenched, a strand of raven hair falling into his eyes, and _finally,_  the water stops spitting into his face when the loud squeal of metal against metal is the last thing that bounces against the small kitchen walls before there's silence again.

Except, his place has never been as quiet as it used to six years ago; where _now_ , as he settles back on his heels with a heave of a sigh diffusing out of his body -grey shirt sticking uncomfortably to his chest that the cool air still manages to cling onto him despite the old heater he's switched on- there’s a faint sound of TV streaming to where he runs his fingers through his hair.

Elmo’s voice accompanies the soft patter of feet that comes towards his way, and Keith let's out a small smile when he faces towards it.

The same indigo eyes he dons stares back at him, her bottom lip juts out into a small pout as she studies the condition her father is in with complete and utter concentration; she holds the stuffed red lion in her hand, her brows furrowed into a small frown. As if she's satisfied, she meets his patient look with a single blink. “You're wet.”

He let's out a small chuckle, looking down to himself briefly before looking up towards her again. “I guess I am,” he shrugs, reaching up to set aside the tool onto the counter before he wipes his hands onto his jeans. “But it's not so bad.”

“You'll sneeze, Pa,” she pushes her lip further out at this, an effective way to show her disapproval from where she's at the doorway of the kitchen, a single curl falling onto her forehead when she holds the plush toy with two hands instead of one. “And when you sneeze, you get grumpy, because you can't stop sneezing.”

Keith feels the way his smile quirks a bit bigger at the blatant statement his daughter oh so kindly reminds him whenever he has a cold, where sometimes, he’ll feel like he would want to sink into his bed permanently without even thinking of getting up as he suffers through his clogged nostrils and puffy eyelids.

But, Astoria would also remind him everyday that the world isn't as sucky and dramatically terrible as he would make it seem whenever she hurls herself onto the duvet with a flurry of wild hair and giggles, wrapping her little arms around his middle as she buries her face into his chest while she tells him to get better soon so that they would read The Princess and the Frog again.

“Well,” he says as he stands up. “if it makes you feel better, how about I change into something dry and then we'll watch some TV? I can make some popcorn to go with that too.”

She nods, before she’s stepping forward and grabbing his hand to pull him towards his room. “Can we watch the stars instead? And have some hot chocolate too?”

He raises an eyebrow at her when she let's go of his fingers, clambering onto his bed to sit at the edge as he begins to peel off his drenched shirt. “But I thought you like Elmo.”

She shrugs, hugging the red lion to her cheek when he begins to go through his drawers, tossing the shirt into the laundry basket without so much looking at it. “But I wanna look at the constellations.”

“It's cold outside, you know,” he grabs a sweater before slipping it on. “and I don't want you to get sick because of it, you have school tomorrow.”

“But, _Pa_ ,” she scowls, a vicious frown on her brows that he rolls his eyes at her, which only makes her more determined when she straightens up. “We _have_ to watch the stars tonight, it's _Thursday_ too, the day we’ll _always_ find the constellations.”

“Really?” He laughs as he sits beside her. “I didn't know we had a routine.”

“ _Pa_. It's _Thursday._ ”

“We could just stay here,” he begins with a hum as he leans onto his hands, giving a small shrug. “Where it's warm and comfy, and,” he pauses at this, gives another nonchalant -and yet, _pointed_ \- shrug. “ _Warm.”_

A small finger pokes his arm. “ _Pa_ , you _promised.”_

He taps his cheek, twisting his lips to the side while he playfully hums in consideration, morphing his expression into a look of confusion. “I don't remember promising _anything_ that made me say that we have to watch the constellations on every Thursday.”

Suddenly, she climbs onto his lap and flattens herself onto him, a tactic that she usually does to get what she wants if he's taking too long to make a decision. But to their supposed misfortune, her foot accidentally hooks itself at one of his wrists that causes both of them to tumble into bed with an audible _oof_ of surprise. And then, they burst into laughter as he wraps an arm around her, where he dips down to plant a kiss onto her hair.

“Alright,” he finally relents. “But, it'll be for a while, and then you have to sleep when it gets too late, okay?”

She nods enthusiastically, and then holds up her hand in the air, pinky popped up like a jack in the box. “Pinky promise?”

He wraps his finger with her own, making a small shake of agreement between them. “Pinky promise.”

As quickly as her feet can carry her, she climbs down from the bed to make her way towards her room, still clutching the toy in her arm as her ponytail bounces at every step she takes. “I'll get the blankets!”

Keith stays where he is at the moment, letting the quiet atmosphere of the night settles into his bones with a gentleness he gets to feel every now and then whenever he's at home, where it mingles with the patter of footsteps against the floor, as well as the gurgle of the pipes behind the peeling walls of old floral wallpaper. He thinks that it used to be vibrant pinks of daisies splattering at random places, an aesthetic part of its charm; but now, at a stage that the lines aren't even that clear, the yellowing corners of the room is a reminder at how rundown this place actually is.

But, it gives Astoria a roof above her head, and the salary he gets is enough to give them three full meals a day everyday that he thinks it's good enough. And what change he has gives him the opportunity to buy her some indulgence she deserves; not like when he finds her in a box on his doorstep with the familiar writing of the woman he’s so sure he'll never actually _see_ and much less _hear_ from again-

The only confirmation that he knows that Astoria is his daughter are her eyes, dark hair, and the cursive handwriting that says so that's been left on top of the squirming bundle, but other than that is history.

“Pa! Let's go!”

Shutting the thought out of his mind, he pushes himself up to make his way towards the small cupboard, the door creaking slightly when he pulls it open to take the extra flannel blankets he keeps at the top shelf.

He shuts the door close before he follows his daughter's excited scuffle as she sprints towards the small balcony they have.

“Come on!”

 

* * *

 

“You look like shit.”

Keith refills the mug with newly brewed coffee. “You're suddenly so caring at this ungodly hour of the day.”

“I tend to be when I least expect it and if I'm completely honest? It's scarring my ability to scare people off,” Allura snorts from where she makes herself comfortable at the dining table, hands wrapped around her own mug of coffee, making herself completely at home. “Plus, anything wrong?”

He plops himself onto the chair opposite of her, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing. “I need you to babysit Astoria for me, I have work that will last me till evening, since I have to tutor a few students before going back, and that could take longer than I would usually expect.”

She raises an eyebrow. “On a _Saturday?_ ”

“They'll be going through their exam soon,” he grunts out as a way of explanation, taking a sip of his black coffee. “This is one of those last minute revisions before all of them are going to hell, and I'm doing whatever I can to make sure they don't fail in _my_ class.”

“Ah, yes, the last stand before everything burns into a frenzy and then we'll gauge our eyes out with a fucking fork,” she laments, eyeing the way he downs the black concoction with a single gulp. “Astoria won't mind though? That you won't be home for the whole day?”

“She understands,” he says softly, looking up to where Astoria sprawls herself on the floor of the living room, scribbling on the book with great concentration that she completely ignores everything around her as if they don't exists. “it's not my ideal weekend to be hauled up in the building for the whole day, but it's only for today. Nothing big, really.” He looks up towards his friend, where she arches an eyebrow in question when he takes too long to say anything. “You're okay with this, right? I'm not- I'm not making you feel burdened with this-?”

“Stop,” she cuts him off with raise of her hand. “It's fine, I don't mind looking after her when you're off to work doing things you're supposed to do. Besides,” she smiles in reassurance, but not without a thin veil of derisiveness tossed in as well. “Some small company is nice when you're living alone in a too big of a house.”

He inhales deeply. “Allura-”

“No, do _not_ , I told you before that I'm fine,” she runs her fingers through her silver mess of hair, and he remembers the first time Astoria is awed and fascinated at it, and at that time, she's just a baby when Allura comes to visit. “Yes, Father would be completely devastated to see that I'm still mourning for his death even if it's been five years, but it doesn't happen as much as it used to,“ she lowers down her voice at this, and Keith is able to see the weariness in her kaleidoscope eyes. “I'm coping, and that's what’s important now.”

For a brief moment, he wonders how similar Astoria would be with Allura when he dies; alone without any more siblings, no extension family for her to meet, and what with his poor sociable interactions with people, she has only met a few of his friends that he trusts fully for her to be with.

Other than that, it's only the two of them in this dingy apartment.

“Pa?”

Both adults straightens up at the sound of Astoria’s voice, her book and pencil in hand. She stares suspiciously between them when they quickly plaster a smile for her to see, hiding whatever trace of evidence their former conversation holds. “Hey there,” he greets, stretching his arm out for her to take. “Something wrong?”

She takes his hand, and then he's carrying her to sit on his lap with the thick book in her hands. “This question,” she begins with a small frown. “is hard.”

“Well,” he brushes his fingers through her free hair, peering over her shoulder. “What does it say?”

“I don't know the equation.”

Allura leans forward to have a peek at her book, and snaps her eyes up towards him in disbelief. “You gave her a _physics_ exercise book?”

He shrugs. “I was experimenting.”

“She's _six_.”

“And she's able to solve half of these,” he shoots back, a hint of pride in his voice when Astoria compares the question with the sheet of paper he has written down all of the equations he teaches her.

It starts as a joke, where he's been marking his students’ papers on a seemingly slow and boring day when his six-year-old comes stumbling towards him. She has been curious at what he's doing, and out of pure humorous attempt, he begins to explain the basics of states of matter to her. It just so happens he has one of his extra sheets of exercise he'll usually give to his students if they forgot the basics of what they've learned, and he let's her doodle onto it with a blunt pencil.

Only to see she has solved it on her own.

After that, he's been secretly laying around papers all over the place, and without fail, it's been filled up with calculations of her messy handwriting, usually in pink crayon.

Allura shakes her head at him as she leans back against the chair. “I can't believe you're leaching out her innocence at an early age.”

“She _likes_ it,” he defends himself. “and I'm only giving her what's she's interested in. Might as well, you know? It's for her future.”

“Is it now?” Allura smirks, before she shifts her gaze towards the little girl in his arms. “Astoria,” indigo eyes looks up towards her. “do you like solving all of these equations your father drills onto you?”

Astoria shrugs, before looking down again. “They're okay, I guess.”

“Really? I suppose you want to be a boring astrophysics professor like your old man here?”

“Hey-”

Astoria shakes her head. “I want to be an astronaut,” she declares. “And Pa says that if I want to see the stars closely, I have to learn physics, and I want to learn physics now if I want to see the stars early.”

Allura blinks at her, before meeting Keith's small triumph smile. “Well, it's no surprise she has your stubborn determination down to the pat. But,” she takes a sip of her coffee. “You’ve ruined her with the damnable curse of introducing her to the field of _science._ ”

“She _likes it_.”

“Disgusting,” she scoffs playfully. “And I studied astrophysics with you for _years_ , Keith, she's going to blame you when she gets older once she knows the feeling of solving one stupid question that would last her almost an hour, two if she has to redo it again.”

He chuckles. “She did that to herself.”

Astoria watches the interaction between them, before focusing her attention fully on the woman in front of her. “Why can't you marry Pa, Aunt Allura?”

Keith feels himself frozen to the spot as Allura blinks at her in surprise at the sudden question, slowly setting down the mug with a quiet _thunk_ that seems to vibrate through the air around them. “Well,” she looks towards him with something akin to panic in her eyes before meeting Astoria's look again. “I can't- I'm not your mother, Astoria.”

“But, you can be,” the six-year-old tries to reason with her with a small frown. “Because you take care of me like all my friends’ mothers take care of them. You read me stories like Pa does when I go to bed.”

She laughs breathlessly, running her fingers through her hair again. “Marriage doesn't work that way, love,” she shoots him a look that clearly says _you better help me in this._ “Marriage is,” she bites her bottom lip. “ _Difficult_ , for me to just marry your father.”

“How?”

“I don't love him like a lover would,” she shrugs, a crooked smile on her face when Astoria frowns deeper. “Hey, now,” Allura reaches out to smooth out the creases between her brows. “It's going to stick permanently if you keep doing that.”

“But, you're a great mum,” Astoria protests, and Keith presses his lips against the back of her head, shutting his eyes briefly as he feels a stab of guilt inside his chest. “and I don't mind if you become my mum.”

He thinks the silence between them can be cut with a knife, and Allura continues to stare into her mug, a curtain of hair covering half of her face. “I suppose you're right,” she says slowly.

Astoria nods in satisfaction before going back to her work.

“Astoria, how about you go read your new book I bought for you? Take a break from this,” Keith gently sets her down to her feet, and then, she's running towards the room while holding onto the book with two hands. "Don't strain your eyes too much, though."

He deflates against the chair, rubbing the side of his face. And then, he winces at her in guilt when she stares at him. “I'm sorry. I didn't expect she would ask questions like that.”

“She's a kid, Keith, she wants to know how the world works,” she finishes the last of her beverage before getting up to wash her mug. “I'm more than happy to answer them for her.”

He follows her, leaning against the sink beside her as she twists on the squeaky knob, studying the perfect poker she has at the moment. “Would you do it if I ask?”

She doesn't answer until she puts the mug on the side. She faces his way with a loose cross of her arms against her middle, arching an eyebrow. “I adore both of you dearly, but I don't think I can give that kind of commitment to you.”

That's all he needs to hear. He nods. “I understand.”

“Good,” she leans forward to give him a peck on the cheek, before going on her search for Astoria. “But, if there's an ex or someone else where you want me to play as your jealous girlfriend, I'll be more than happy too. Because I have tons of dresses than needs to be reused, or I'm just going to change most of them to money and give it to charity.”

He snorts, following her to his daughter’s room. “Yeah, sure, I'll keep that in mind.”

He watches the way Allura blows raspberries onto Astoria's cheek, where the little girl giggles before looping her short arms around her neck, planting a sloppy kiss of her own onto Allura’s temple that his friend laughs at the wetness of her lips. “Tell your Pa to bring back a large tub of ice cream for us when he gets home.”

“Yes!”

Both of his eyebrows shoots up. “Ganging up on me?”

“No, we just want a little treat to make up for all those hours you're going to abandon us in this little cosy shack of yours,” Allura grins, wrapping her arms around Astoria, before perching her chin onto her head. “That's bad, _you're_ bad.”

“ _No_ ,” Astoria protests, lacing her fingers with Allura's. “Pa is _always_ good.”

“Really?” Allura says dryly. “Let me tell you at the time when we're in college, he used to ride his bike and-”

“You mean _all_ of us,” he cuts her off. “With Hunk, Lance, Pidge, and _you_.”

“Ah, yes, we were little devils wreaking havoc around the campus while shooting confetti into people’s beds,” she says lightly.

“That was seven years ago.”

“And we're still in our twenties to able to do it again.”

He shrugs. “I'll be more than happy to be the cause of destruction, but as you see,” he gestures towards the little girl in her arms. “I have to set a good example.”

Allura nods with feign sympathy. “Of course, of course. Now, _shoo,_ or you'll be late.”

“And bring back some ice cream please!” Astoria pipes up, to which Allura nods gravely.

“Oh, yes, that's a must, or we'll just lock you out until you have to buy it at the nearest store. And it _has_ to be cookies and cream.”

He shakes his head, but a smile is present on his lips as he makes his way towards his room. “I can't believe I'm being bullied.”

“Fear our power.” Both girls laugh at his loud sigh.

 

* * *

 

It's evening when he decides it's enough for the day, where he wishes them a flitting _good luck_ when his students drag their feet out of the door, grumbling under their breaths at how they're going to drown themselves in their bathtubs once they get home, or stuff their faces until they puke. 

Keith tidies up his belongings before he makes his way out, walking down the empty hallway that he's able to hear the faint sound of bells from the church that's ringing at the distance, the autumn air biting onto his form the moment he pushes the doors open. Tugging his coat nearer towards himself, he quickly makes his way towards his bike, slinging his bag behind him before he wears his helmet.

And then, he's revving out of the place.

He decides to stop at one of bars he usually goes whenever he feels like taking a break to himself, sliding into a stool as he orders his usual shot of whisky.

The place is still empty at this time of the day. The sun is already setting outside from where he's cradling the glass in his hands, rubbing his thumb against the rim of it as he stares blankly at the counter.

The bell of the door tinkles to inform the presence of customers, and the sound of footsteps against the tiled floor is inaudible enough that almost makes Keith raise his head in curiosity; but he resists and keeps his eyes to the front.

There are murmurs between the new customer and the bartender before the sound of glasses clinking takes their place, and Keith is able to feel the way how physically strung up the person beside him is, as if all the tension the person is keeping is threatening to spring out.

“Do you come here often?”

After a moment, Keith realises that the stranger is talking to him, and he raises his head to meet the person's gaze.

Only to hide his surprise at the man before him.

The man, Keith finds, is well-built in terms of muscle, donning a buzz cut with a tuff of white hair going into his grey eyes as he waits for Keith to answer, where they hold some actual curiosity instead of the usual leering stares Keith would face whenever men tried to hit on him. What catches his attention, however, is the scar on his face; a fading pink streak against the bridge of his nose that probably hurt like hell when it was first put there.

The man wears a simple grey shirt and a dark coloured trench coat that goes along with his black slacks and polished black shoes, and Keith resist the urge to scowl.

A man with well income, possibly an executive manager of sorts who works in a big office for a large company, and right now he just finished his work because he likes to get it done quickly.

But, quite possibly, with a wild streak inside him when Keith’s eyes doesn't linger on his hair.

Possibly.

He stops his ministrations against the glass. “That sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

The man let's out a chuckle, his bleached hair brushing against his forehead when he ducks his head slightly. “I'm not going to murder you, if that's what you're wondering.”

“And that’s what they all say whenever they want to murder someone,” Keith drones out as he finishes off the whisky. “It's not exactly working, by the way.”

“I don't plan it to,” the man gives a wry smile, twisting his body so that his torso faces Keith, an arm resting on the counter. “Clichés don't work as well in real life as they are in movies.”

“Sure they do,” Keith replies, a snark hiding under his tone. “You just have to mess things up to make them as shitty as possible and then you have one of those clichés that some people would rather avoid.”

There's a pause that's going on between them, and Keith thinks he's gone too far by exposing too much about himself, and is about to ask for the bill when the stranger opens his mouth.

“Rough life, huh?”

There's a tinge of sympathy that makes annoyance raise up, but he clamps it down firmly to not let it rear it's head. “Rough day,” he corrects with a gruff. “The rest of my life isn't looking so excellent either, but,” he shrugs. “I managed.”

He remembers the nights when he thinks he's never going to go through things right, where he tries to make sure Astoria stops crying her lungs out in the middle of the night as he walks around his bedroom, while juggling between his job and finding someone that could take care of her when he's at work. He remembers wanting to cry himself from the overwhelming feeling of pressure and being a single parent that he's forced to stop taking his PhD and start looking for jobs, and that his professors are kind enough to offer him a space at the university he’s in.

Being a top student has its perks he realises.

Some days, he has to bring Astoria to work when he isn't able to find any babysitter. The other professors and some students are more than welcomed to take care of her until he finishes his classes.

He shakes his head slightly, pulling out his wallet to pay. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dived down into my sob story. You wouldn't want to hear something depressing at this time of the day.”

The stranger waves it away, a small huff of laughter escaping his lips. “It's alright, I shouldn't have pried.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith stands up, and he quirks an eyebrow at him. “We’re both at fault then.”

The man laughs. “True,” and then, he offers his hand. “Shiro, by the way.”

Keith knows that it's cold outside, but he isn't sure it's enough for someone to wear gloves inside a shop.

He isn't one to judge when he has a tendency to wear a jacket everywhere he goes no matter the weather, and slips his hand into Shiro’s. “Keith.”

“Well, it looks like you're in a hurry,” Shiro begins as they part, curling his fingers around his shot glass. “I shouldn't hold you back from whatever it is you're doing.”

Keith nods, attempting a polite smile that feels more strained than anything else. “Yeah,” he takes small steps backwards as he looks at Shiro, unable to rip his eyes away from those gentle grey eyes as they watch him go. “Thanks for, uh, listening to whatever the hell I was blabbering about.”

Shiro gives a wave as Keith pushes the door open, feeling the cold air filling in the warm place of the bar, a smile forming on his lips. “No problem.”

Keith nods once, and then he turns on his heel to let the door shut close behind him, making his way towards his bike.

He decides, with a quick blame to the whisky he drinks, that those eyes look absolutely striking.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been like, _months_ since I last touched this fic and the fact that I'm updating it now is..........atrocious
> 
> My updating system needs to be improved lmao
> 
> Enjoy!

“You need to find someone.”

Tapping his finger against his knee out of restlessness that embeds itself under his skin, Keith watches the way Astoria plays with the kids there, where all of them are laughing and shouting as they chase each other around the playground with such merriment and joy in the morning that it almost makes him feel envious at the energy they possess. “I did,” he says, matter-of-fact. “It didn't work well.”

Lance shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from freezing in the cold, his beanie pulled down to the tip of his ears. “So your relationship with the guy was a train wreck after that asshole did what he did, but consider this,” Keith glances at him at the corner of his eye, and Lance beams. “he, at least, was good to Astoria. And she liked him enough to let him colour with her, considering that your girl can be as bristly as you can whenever you two meet new people.”

Keith narrows his eyes at him. “Hilarious.”

“Stating the truth for what it is, man,” Lance hums while stretching his long and lanky legs in front of him, earphones draped over his shoulders from his morning run. “Look, Polo-”

“Rolo.”

“-whatever the fuck his name is,” he continues without so much of blinking at his mistake, ignoring the glares of mothers that are near them enough to hear what the both of them are conversing about. Keith realises with a hint of despair that his life is going to be documented at the park that instant. “can screw as much people as he wants until he's as dry as the desert, but the fact that an asshole like him can prove something when both of you were together is already clear that you _have_ to try dating again.”

Keith purses his lips at this, the ghost of disappointment and pain still clutching his chest as he slumps against the bench, where it opens other doors to memories he rather not face. “Astoria was happy.”

“ _Very,_ ” Lance agrees with a single nod. “Lit up like a Christmas tree every time the two of you went and pick her up at my place, or even Allura’s.”

Keith let's out a smile as he continues to watch her play on one of the swings, kicking her legs out enthusiastically while chatting a hundred miles per minute with her friend from the other swing.

“Did she know why you two broke up?”

He prevents a wince from taking form. “Told her Rolo had better places to be than staying with us, had more important people to see.”

“What's her reaction like?” Lance asks, looking at him intently as he waits for his answer.

“Dismissive.” Keith states, and Lance snorts out a chuckle. “She either understands or she doesn't like him that much to actually care if he stays or not, but,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his face. “She _was_ happier.”

“Exactly. You're a single dad in his late twenties going on thirty next year, looking for someone to be with, _hopefully_ , until your last dying breath. Because I know you're going to be a sad old dude living in his apartment fixing his kitchen sink every time it's busted if you don't.”

Keith scowls at him. “And I can't believe I'm suddenly taking relationship advice from you of all people.”

“What’s wrong with me giving relationship advice?” Lance counters back defensively. “And you can't diss on them when you're actually listening to every word I say. It's hypocritical, and being hypocritical is low even for you.”

“When you put my daughter in the mix, of course I'm going to listen.” Keith snaps, ruffling his hair in irritation. “Just- finding someone who's actually willing to go out with anyone with a kid is hard, because they think it's difficult to take care of a kid and it burdens them or something.”

“Then, those type of people are assholes.” Keith swears one of the women on his right winces; whether from the language Lance uses or that statement just gotten itself nailed by a hammer, he doesn't know. “If you like that person genuinely, you wouldn't think that supporting their kid would be considered as _burdened._ You gotta know what you’re getting yourself into the moment you realise it.”

He arches an eyebrow at Lance. “You're all suddenly philosophical in this.”

“Hey,” Lance grins, folding his arms behind his head. “I'm just one of a kind.”

Digging his elbow into Lance's side, Keith gives a small smirk when Lance doubles over. “Careful, Lance,” he warns as Lance wheezes in pain. “your giant ego is making you stick your head into the clouds.”

Lance glares weakly at him, rubbing the spot tenderly. “Traitor. After all the energy and spit I've wasted to make sure you don't fall to your ultimate doom and _this_ is how you repay me? By being a goddamn drama queen?”

“Why are you talking about yourself like that?” Keith blinks innocently at him, and Lance scoffs while pushing onto his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, Hunk’s surprise party is still going on this Saturday at my place, right?” Lance says once they've settled down. “Because I plan that this weekend will be the best day of his life that he won't know what would hit him.”

Keith nods. “Yeah. Astoria's really looking forward to it, said something about wanting to bake some mini cupcakes for him like he'll always does when it's her birthday.”

“Hunk would cry like a baby,” Lance smirks, and a flicker of fondness passes his features before he hides it completely, the mischievous look more apparent when he turns to look at Keith. “Bring someone to the party.”

Keith blinks. “I thought this party was only going to be the few of us.”

“I'm inviting some college friends too, and a few other people Hunk is friends with. Come on,” Lance slaps a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be great! Or you could just hit one of Hunk's friends at the party later, that'll be cool too.”

“You know I don't ‘hit on people’,” Keith does air quotes with his fingers. “I don't have time for that, and it doesn't work that way.”

“First of all, never do ‘air quotes’,” Lance scoffs, fingers mimicking him that causes Keith to roll his eyes. “Second, you're just making excuses.”

“No, it's because I have more important things to do now,” he shoots back mildly. “I know you're trying to help, and I appreciate it, but I don't want to find anyone now. At least, not _yet.”_

Lance stares at him, before giving a shrug. “Alright, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, believe me.” He doesn't stop his fingers from tapping themselves against his knee, pursing his lips together. “Astoria asked why Allura can't marry me, in front of Allura herself.”

“Why can't she ask me that? And,” Lance quickly adds when Keith shoots him a glare. “I guess that it has to do with the fact that Astoria is seeing all these kids having a pair of parents instead of _a_ parent, huh?”

“Something like that.” Keith answers, curling his frozen fingers into his palm to unsuccessfully steal some warmth.

It's been one of those days where he manages to get away from work during his lunch, and he’s just parked his car near the entrance of her school when he sees his little girl sitting on one of the swings with a curious look on her face. Following her gaze, he sees the small family sitting at the bench with their kid in between his parents, talking and smiling as they’re obviously having a personal time together.

It makes him feel guilty to see Astoria like that, getting out of the car to make his way towards her. She drags her eyes away from the family when she notices him, and breaks out into a large grin that she launches herself from the swing to hug him tightly. It's enough to make her momentarily forget of what she just saw as he kisses the top of her head, asking her about her day that she answers with enthusiasm.

“Which is why you gotta find someone to go to the party with,” Lance points out, but Keith only slouches more in his seat. “Okay, okay, fine. You find your someone with your own pace and time, while _I_ am going to make our best friend a night to remember.”

The corner of his lips twitches into a sly smirk as Keith looks at him at the corner of his eye. “Finally got the guts, huh?”

Lance gets his revenge but shoving Keith to the side again, almost toppling him over that the latter laughs. The flush across his cheeks amplifies as Lance glances at the women around them, where they're obviously trying not to appear amused as if they haven't listened to their conversation the whole time. “Not like _that,_ ” he hisses when he glares at Keith. “It's the _party_.”

Keith shrugs idly. “Whatever you say.”

“At least I have someone I like.”

“At least I hadn't been pining over them for almost a decade.”

Lance frowns at him. “Don't make it sound so pathetic.”

“I'm glad you're finally starting to realise it,” Keith answers dryly as he notices the way Astoria jumps from her swing, landing on her feet gracefully. He straightens up before reaching for the thermos in the backpack he brings with him. “You've been like this ever since you guys drooled on each other after that party. He's probably waiting for you to confess. Do it, Lance.”

“Doubt it,” Lance mutters, and Astoria gives a wave to her friend before bounding over to where they’re sitting. “I mean, the dude's a natural Einstein, but when it comes to this?” He gives a quick gesture to himself. “Nah, not a clue.”

“Ever heard of selective hearing?” Keith begins lamely, pouring hot chocolate into the small cup. “You have that, but instead it's just being blind.”

“Rude.” Lance sniffs. “Astoria, baby, tell your Pa to stop being the rudest man on Earth.”

She blinks at him as she takes the cup from Keith. “Why does everyone keep saying bad things about Pa?”

Lance stares at her in disbelief, before giving Keith a deadpanned look. “The similarities are uncanny.”

Keith only shrugs, a small smile tugging on his lips as he drops a kiss onto her beanie-covered hair. “My hero.”

“Like Supergirl?” She asks excitedly, climbing on the bench to sit between the two men.

“Definitely Supergirl.” Keith agrees with a nod, bringing out a container of mini sandwiches before giving one to her. “She's from space, remember?”

“Yep!” She munches on her snack, feet swinging happily. “That's where I'm going when I grow up.”

“Next thing we know, she's breaking conspiracy theories.” Lance takes one sandwich for himself. “And then, she'll be joining you and Pidge on an alien discovery.”

Keith hums noncommittally. “She likes The X-files.”

Lance shakes his head, finishing off his small share in one bite. “We're doomed.”

 

* * *

 

Based on his students' faces, exhaustion won over relief as chairs are dragged across the floor of the hall, where most of them don't even bother to pack up their stationery properly as they grab whatever is left sprawled on the table before tottering out in numerous, quiet groups; eager to throw themselves into bed but far too tired to be in a rush.

Keith waits for all of them to leave before he follows shortly after that, muttering out his goodbyes to the other lecturers with a heap of papers in his arms, all nicely tucked in a large envelope for him to scourge through later in his office and back at home.

He makes a fleeting note to make a fresh pot of coffee before getting started.

Passing the vending machine, he purses his lips.

And maybe a can of Red Bull by the side if he's desperate.

Some of the students he passes gives him mumbles of greetings as he makes his way to his office, and he responds in kind before he turns around the corner to climb up the stairs.

His shoes clicks under the marble floor, and he huffs out his relief when he realises that it only takes one floor for him to carry the heavy papers in his grip.

He thinks that at this point, he doesn't have to go to the gym again.

He passes three identical brown doors to arrive his office, and he uses one arm to hold onto the papers to twist the doorknob open, grunting slightly as the door swings out under his command before he quickly makes his way in, slamming the burden on his desk. “Astoria?”

He takes one look around the room to know that she's isn't there, her colouring book left open on the red two-seater near the window, and makes his way towards the lecturer's lounge.

The moment he steps foot, however, he skids to a halt at the doorway when he sees her talking to someone who clearly isn't one of the staffs he knows.

She has her homework open on the coffee table, pencil resting on the page as she converses with the man sitting on the sofa in front of her, smiling at her in encouragement with whatever she's talking about; probably space again, Keith guesses fondly, and is jerked out of thought when a hand suddenly clasp onto his shoulder without so much a warning.

“Whoops, sorry there, Keith,” Coran apologises enthusiastically. “Didn't mean to startle you, it's just that you're in the way and I need to see my guest.”

“Sorry,” Keith mutters, stepping to the side. “I was going to bring Astoria home with me, it's getting late.”

“You're right about that,” Coran says as he passes through. “But, it looks like she's having fun talking to Shiro.”

Shiro looks up at the call of his name, the smile staying on his lips. “Professor?”

“Just Coran, please. You're not my student anymore, Shiro.” Coran chuckles, reaching over to ruffle Astoria's hair that causes her to bat his hand away, a small frown in her lips. Keith leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “‘Ello, mini Keith. Your Pa's going to bring you home, best be packing your things now.”

She peers to the side to meet her father's gaze, to which Keith gives a smile when he sees the way she lights up at the sight of him. “Had fun?”

“We were talking about how Pluto has a lot of moons orbiting near it,” she answers instead. And then, the frown is back, only fiercer. “Pluto is _still_ a planet.”

“Tell that to NASA,” Shiro says, and Keith watches the way he smiles at her pout. “They think it's a moon because it's the size of Australia.”

“It's still a planet even if it's small.” She protests, adamant.

“Well, maybe when you're old enough, you can work there with Shiro and negotiate the other scientists to change its status again,” Coran soothes with a pat on her head, and she doesn't bother to wave him off this time -far too upset at Pluto's isolation. “and prove to them that they're all wrong.”

She nods gravelly. “I'm going to become an astronaut first.”

He beams, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes making an appearance. “Good idea.”

And then, he gestures towards Keith while the man pushes himself off the door frame. “Keith’s been one of my students here too,” Coran addresses Shiro. “Top student like you too.”

Keith pauses near his daughter, and the same type of surprise flashes in Shiro's eyes as he waits for Astoria to clean up. “You didn't tell me you used to go here too?”

He doesn't know why that's the first thing that comes out of his mouth when Keith has only met the man that one time at the bar -just for a short talk about how miserable he's been, he recalls with some horror- and tries not to wince at his mistake when he sees Shiro raises both of his eyebrows. “You didn't ask.”

Keith wants to smack his own forehead at how tentative Shiro sounds, and having the very right to sound confused at his burst.

“I see you're well acquainted,” Coran observes, grinning widely. “Good, I like it when my ex-students know each other. It makes me feel all warm and excited when I do, like when I'm wearing my sweaters during a cold winter's day.”

“Well, you did have a thing for hand-knitted sweaters.” Shiro reminds him with a small chuckle.

“Still do! It's just tucked inside my drawer because I couldn't wear it during the meeting. ” Coran let's out a sniff. “They need to learn that nothing's interesting when you have to face plain boring suits everyday.”

“Zarkon's all about system, anyway.” Keith rolls his eyes, trying to mentally shake off his embarrassment without any of them noticing.

Astoria slides down from the sofa, her book and pencil case in hand as she looks up at him. “Can we eat spaghetti bolognese today?”

“Sure, we can have grape juice with that too.” At her beam, Keith offers them an apologetic smile as she slips her smaller hand into his. “Sorry about this, but we have to leave.”

“I was about to ask you two to have a nice dinner with us,” Coran says just as when they're about to walk out, and Keith stops to look at him in surprise. “Nothing fancy, just a simple dinner where's there, say,” he gives Astoria a wink. “Spaghetti bolognese with sprinkled cheddar on top, and there'd be French toast on the side too. We can even get dessert after that.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, before slowly directing that enamoured look to Keith, and she promptly tugs onto his hand to get his attention. “Let's go, Pa.”

Keith tries not to notice the way Shiro stands up. “I don't want to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” Coran waves away his doubt. “Or I wouldn't be asking in the first place. I'd just like to have a little chat about what you've been doing, it's been awhile since I’ve seen both of you.”

Keith is tempted to remind him that he's been working next to Coran for six years, but decides to drop it when he sees the way Shiro nods. However, he faces Keith with a half-smile, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “I don't mind so long you're comfortable with it.”

It takes Keith a fleeting moment to notice that Shiro's still wearing his black leather gloves inside a building. But then, he shrugs, directing his gaze towards where Astoria is basically pleading at him through the shine of her eyes. “Okay,” he finally relents, looking up at the two men in front of him. “But, we can't stay long, Astoria has school in the morning.”

“Right!” Coran clasps his hands once, grinning widely. “Just let me remind Nyma to put all the exam papers on my table and we'll be off.”

Astoria pulls Keith out of the room, a bounce in her step as they make their way towards his office. “Come on, Pa.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs breathlessly, following her down the hallway. “You're excited you're finally getting some pasta, huh?”

“Yeah! And, we get to eat with Uncle Coran and Shiro too.”

Keith glances over his shoulder, where Shiro walks out of the room while talking with Coran, a wry smile on his face as the older man pats him roughly on the bicep. “Is he nice?”

“He's okay,” she shrugs as she let's go of his hand to collect her books and colour pencils. “Shiro says he likes the stars since he was little like me too, so working with NASA is his dream come true.”

Well, no wonder she's so excited. Finding someone who's basically a carbon copy of what she's been wanting to be is certainly giving Shiro brownie points; there's a possibility that she's going to hoard him to herself for questions later on. “What else did you two talk about?”

“He's been to space, Pa!” She says excitedly, shoving her arms into the sleeves of the jacket he holds out for her. “He's been to _Mars,_  and he's an _astronaut._ ”

“Careful, or you're going to rip your jacket.” Keith shakes his head slightly in disbelief when he helps her wear it properly. “I'm guessing you're going to talk to him alone and ignore the rest of us later?”

“ _Space,_  Pa.” Is all she answers as she takes the gloves from him.

Priorities.

That night, true to his prediction, Astoria immediately dives into conversation the moment they so much sit down, asking everything she's been itching to ask the whole time they're in the car. Thankfully, Shiro doesn't mind them all and answers them with almost equal enthusiasm; telling her what he and his crew collected for samples, explaining the meaning of a word if she frowns in confusion, and Keith has to remind her to eat if she's going to finish her food soon.

He's never seen her talk this much when meeting new people, but he thinks that she's far too happy to feel as embarrassed that Keith's grateful for it, and Coran seems to thinks so as well when he can't stop smiling the whole time.

“She's all so grown up now,” Coran says to Keith alone as they let Shiro explain his experiences, using his spoon to imitate his ship. “She used to be a wee thing who runs around the floor with one of us on her heels, now she's talking about joining them out there.” He gives a feign sniff of sadness, wiping away an imaginary tear. “They grow up so fast.”

“She's going to leave me one day and I wouldn't know what to do about it,” Keith admits, cutting through his steak. “It'll be lonely.”

“Get more, of course,” Coran says offhandedly. “And you'll have more of them running around in your place. If possible, raise them with someone.”

Keith sets down his cutleries to stare at him. “Not you too.”

“Just a suggestion,” Coran hums, taking a sip of water. “No pressure.”

“It still feels like it.” Keith mutters.

When they’re done eating the main course, Coran smiles at the youngest member of the table. “I'm thinking of looking at what cakes they have, do you want to join me?”

She nods, wiping her stained lips with the napkin before bounding down from her seat. “Let's go.”

When both men are left alone, Keith offers Shiro a small smile. “Sorry if she's bothering you too much, she tends to be talkative when she gets too excited.”

Shiro waves his apology away with a chuckle. “It's okay, she's just curious on what's going on behind all those rocket ships and suits. She’s fun to talk with than most people, so I don't mind at all.”

Keith gives a tight smile, looking to where his fingers are fiddling with his napkin. “It's just that she's smarter than the kids her age and skips three grades at her school. Most people thought she's too conceited and kinda hate her for winning most of the arguments she has with her teachers since, you know,” he gestures with his hand vaguely. “Older people are easily insulted when a six-year-old handed their asses back to them.”

Shiro laughs, and Keith looks up to see the way he's shaking his head. “She sounds amazing, though. If I were there, I probably won't stop cheering for her.”

“Yeah, the amount of times I had to listen to the way the principal kept saying, ‘Mr. Kogane. I'm calling in regards to Astoria.’ gets more frequent every month.” Keith pauses for a while. “So, Altea University, huh?”

Shiro shrugs, leaning back against the chair to get himself comfortable. “I guess so.” He smirks. “Now that I think about it, weren't you and your friends the ones who shot confettis into people's windows during finals?”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “How'd you know?”

“Because my roommate was one of those poor souls who got hit,” Shiro snorts lightly. “And I had to listen to Matt swearing he'd ‘get the Red Jacket Asshole for making a mess and for making him waste his time cleaning it up in the middle of the goddamn night.’”

Keith shrugs, but gives Shiro an amused look at the quotation he does. “We thought it'd be a great opportunity to lose steam.”

“I think it made most of us give up on studying that night,” Shiro says wryly. “‘Jesus Christ, the sophomores are at it again’. Some of them threatened to catch you guys using laundry baskets.”

Keith grins. “Did you join them?”

“Nah, I had to pull Matt back from charging forward, though. He was the one who suggested it.”

“That could've explain why someone threw a pink Hello Kitty pamper at us for no reason.”

“That would be them.”

They share a laugh, before Coran and Astoria comes back with a plate of layered chocolate cake and four forks. “Here we are! A delicious cake for us to consume.”

Keith smiles at him, as they begin to sit down. “Thanks.”

“On the other hand,” he continues when Coran waves it away, taking the offered fork from Astoria. “You were roommates with Pidge's brother?”

“Yeah,” Shiro replies, taking his own fork as well. “I’ve known the Holts since we were in the same high school together, and it's just luck we went to the same college too.”

Keith furrows his brows. “How come we haven't bumped into each other before? I mean, I've been friends with Pidge since freshman.”

Shiro points the fork at his way. “Karma.”

“For what, something we did in our past lives?”

He grins. “Exactly.”

Keith only snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

 

* * *

 

It takes perfectly good balance to hold onto his daughter with one hand while he digs into his pockets to find the keys, grumbling slightly at the lack of light as Keith swears he's going to change the dead light bulb after buying a new one. Once the door swings open, he holds Astoria close as he steps inside, carefully shutting the door close again with his foot.

He switches on the lights as he makes his way towards her room, where he gently sets her on the bed before taking off her shoes. And then, he went to the cupboard to take out her pyjamas, making sure they're flannel since the night gets colder as winter begins to peek in.

Once he's tuck her in properly, he makes his way out, sighing as he lets his fingers rake through his hair while he sits at the dining table, making a mental note to take out the exam papers the next morning.

He drums his fingers on the surface while the sound of the ticking clock continues to bounce on the walls of his apartment. He purses his lips, before reaching inside his jeans pocket.

Keith takes a long look at the white card Shiro gives him before they part ways, NASA’s symbol staring back at him in all its blue glory. When he flips it around, the silver font gleams under the action that it takes Keith a certain angle to read the name printed neatly on it.

_Takashi Shirogane_

His eyes fleets down the number and NASA’s address written underneath, before realising his hand is already subconsciously reaching for his phone.

He huffs out a breath, dropping the hand as he almost slams the card down on the table.


End file.
